


Interlude

by icomewithknives



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Post-Canon, Dimension Travel, Gen, Master of Death Harry Potter, One Shot, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-25
Updated: 2016-07-25
Packaged: 2018-07-26 15:13:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7579009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icomewithknives/pseuds/icomewithknives
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>The world was a cold and unforgiving place.</p>
  <p>No one knew that better than five years old Tom Marvolo Riddle.</p>
</div>
            </blockquote>





	Interlude

The world was a cold and unforgiving place.

No one knew that better than five years old Tom Marvolo Riddle; who was currently laying on the muddy, wet floor, small body tightly curled on itself, arms holding protectively around his head, trying to avoid head trauma as best as he possibly could – smart child, that one – while children not much older than himself kicked him senseless.

Ah, yes, children could be vicious, cruel little _monsters_.

Eventually, like all things, the appeal of beating someone who did not respond to their taunts or their physical abuse ceased to be amusing and so they departed back to the Orphanage where they all came from –  saying something about playing another game and later preparing themselves for their meager supper –, leaving the other boy finally in peace.

Small comfort, that was.

Tom Marvolo Riddle did not move.

If he could not or choose not to do so was a mystery. He just lay there, still curled on himself for a lengthy amount of minutes, breath heavy and uneven. His little form started to tremble as if trying to contain whatever he was feeling and failing miserably.

Barring the child’s breath and wind rustling the leaves on the trees it was silence. A weary, heavy silence broken, finally, by a soft, low voice:

“How long do you plan to stay laying there?”

Tom Marvolo Riddle’s entire body tensed. It was a fascinating process to the see: his small, trembling body suddenly got taut as if he was merely a string pulled too tightly. The boy could hold his tears but could not hold a soft gasp of surprise – and perhaps even _fear_.

“It’s getting late and awfully cold so if you stay here any longer you will _die_.” it was said calmly and factual as if the person was just commenting on the weather – which they were – but it held no inflexion, just a soft, low, indifferent tone.

As if prompted by his own possible death the boy, very, very slowly started to move until he finally sat on the floor, hand touching his ribs cautiously and immediately wincing at the pain there. His old, tattered clothes covered in mud and bits of blood, and his arms and legs did not look any better, just more bruised. His face was not terribly hurt just one dark brown eye swollen shut and a cut on the corner of his mouth.

Tom Marvolo Riddle’s gaze first met pristine, black boots. Its owner was not far away but not too close either – which made the boy immensely glad. When he deemed the boots not interesting enough he finally met the stranger’s eyes and it was as if time itself stopped flowing for a single glorious moment. _Green,_ was his first thought, breath catching for a reason he could not discern. _Dark, cold and green_.

Like **death**.

“Who are you?” the boy asked; his voice rough and laced with suspicion. The stranger cooked his head to the side, black messy hair following in a gentle wave.  Oddly, the movement reminded Tom of a bird. The man’s face was blank as his voice. “What do you want?”

“Why do you presume _I_ want something?” was the flat answer.

Tom Marvolo Riddle’s good eye narrowed.

“You would not be talking to me if you did not want something, would you?”

The man smirked.

The first change in expression the boy was aware of and he did not like it.

“Fair point.”

“So I ask again: what do you want?” the boy said between gritted teeth, which only prompted a raised eyebrow from the stranger and only served to agitate Tom Marvolo Riddle more.  

“You want to torture me? _Kill me_?”

“Do all children have such a colourful imagination or it is just you?” the green-eyed man drawled, walking closer to the fallen boy and ignoring the way he tensed at every step he took. The more both of them interacted, the more the green-eyed man seemed to come alive. The indifference was quickly forgotten. “To answer your dramatics: we do not want to kill or maim you in any way, yes, we know, boring, right?”

The boy could do nothing but to stare at the man, apprehension gripping his little heart. He did not know what to expect and that in itself was terrifying. The adults in his life wanted nothing with him and if they did, it was just to insult or punish him for his freakishness, for the things he could do and knew not how to explain.

“The thing is, _Tom Marvolo Riddle_ ,” the mention of his name made the boy, if possible, even more tense. The muscles of his body straining with it. The green-eyed man stopped in front of him, gaze never leaving the child’s face. “We are bored.”

“What.” Tom Marvolo Riddle blurted incredulously, eyes wide.

Without much ceremony, the man crouched, hands leaving the pockets of his dark grey pea coat, arms resting on his knees.

“Bored: to make weary by being dull, repetitive or–“

“I know what ‘bored’ means!” Tom Marvolo Riddle cut, irritated. It seems the fear was receding into much-needed anger. “You know what I meant!”

“ _Ah_. Well, as we said before we are bored. There is nothing much to it, really. These past few centuries have been a bit dull, you see, so _I_ thought, ‘we should visit Tom. We miss him, do we not?’ and since we had no pressing matters to attend here _we_ are.”

“How do you know me?” the child’s voice was getting a tad hysteric, his anger and confusion growing. The tears that he had not let escape when he was being beaten threatening to spill at long last. “Answer me!”

The man sighed.

“Forgive _us_ , Tom. We do not deal with people often these days so sometimes we get a little carried away with ourselves. I have known you all your _lives_. My name, child, is Harry and I am a wizard. So are you, for that matter.”

The boy stared and stared.

“Prove it.” It was what he finally said.

The green-eyed man – _Harry_ – gave a ghost of a smile, raising his hand slowly to the boy’s face, as to not scare him more than _they_ already did. “May I?” receiving a nod, Harry gently took a bit of the blood on the corner of Tom Marvolo Riddle’s mouth with his thumb, making the boy flinch a little at the sting.

Harry drew a small rune on the boy’s forehead, pouring some of his own magic on it, making it glow a soft, pale red.

Tom Marvolo Riddle opened his mouth to protest that was not proof enough when he felt a warm feeling flowing in his body, mending his bones, fading his bruises and healing his swollen eye. He did not feel any pain or ache anymore.

“Can I do that too?” he whispered, awed, complaints and caution thrown to the wind. Touching his face carefully with the tips of his fingers he looked at Harry, showing more emotion in that moment than he did in all of his short life. “Can you teach me?  _Please?_ ”

“Possibly.”

“Thank you!” Tom Marvolo Riddle exclaimed, excited, standing up. Even his clothes were clean! “I always thought I was special and now, now… there’s you and you know magic! Can you talk to snakes too? Sometimes I can make them do what I want and I can move things too!”

Harry smiled faintly, finally getting up himself. This was not supposed to happen and he knew it, but he did not care overly much, not when the boy was babbling so excitedly about magic the way Harry knew he would, eyes shining with awe and little hands moving as if to make a point. Looking ahead, Harry was lost for a moment in whatever his mind caught itself: _past, present and future_.

 He had a decision to make.

“ _Tom_.” He cut the boy’s excited babbling gently. Tom Marvolo Riddle stopped at once, noticing Harry’s serious tone. “Would like to come with us?”

_Ah_ , Death sighed equals part fond and exasperated, observing the events unfolding. Their master always, after all those centuries, still had a soft, sentimental heart – even for his long past enemies. It had been a long time since they had company. After all, who would accompany the Master of Death if not Death themselves?

It seems that they were not claiming that boy’s **soul** that day.

At least not _yet_.


End file.
